Valkyria Chronicles: The World Set Free
by MarksmantheSTALKER
Summary: This is a modern version of the Valkyria Chronicles. Set in modern times with characters from the game. This story is about Squad 7 and others as the trudge through World War III by turning back the invasion and fight to save not only Gallia, but also the world.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue:

"Citizen Soldiers holding the light for the one that we guide from the dark of despair."

-Three Doors Down

"Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed by so many few."

-Winston Churchill

The world was once again plunged in chaos in another World War conflict. Europa can never know peace, the fight over resources is a constant. The Atlantic Federation, a collection of corrupted democracies, fights a war against Autocratic East Europan Imperial Alliance, a empire bent on expanding its borders. They fought over a resource known a Ragnite, an element that powers their cities, their war machines, and their way of life. On the sidelines of the conflict was the Alliance, a collection of like minded nations that value freedoms of its citizens. Several powerful nation belong to it, such as the United Northern America, Republic of Erin, United Kingdom of Britannia, The Principality of Gallia, and the Union of Socialist Slavic Republics formed the Alliance as a way to protect each other from hostile acts from either from the Federation or Imperial forces. When the Third World War broke out in 2015, the nations of the Alliance declared neutrality. The Federation had other plans. They force Gallia out of the Alliance stating a old treaty from  
the 1900 saying if Gallia declares neutrality, then it must remove itself from any military alliance. The nations under the Alliance protested this obvious hostile act was silence when the Federation and the Imperial declared war on each other and marched off to war. For two years, these two superpowers fought to a stalemate. The Imperial, looking for an edge and resources, set their sights on Gallia. The devastating first strike arrived on October 1, 2017. The peaceful nation of Gallia raised its armies and militias to the fight. The Alliance, began to mobilized its own forces to help its ally when the Federation issued an ultimatum, either stay out of the conflict, or experience a Nuclear Exchange. With their hands tied, the members of the Alliance watch in horror as their ally crumbles and there is nothing they could do. But when the darkest hour has come, heroes will arise, ready to protect the weak. This is their story, the story about freedom and love, of violence and sacrifice. The tale of theses heroes will be unfold before you, so you will know what happen here and understand.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter I: The Invasion

Fort Meade, United Northern America

October 22, 2017

21 Days since the Invasion

1145

Fort Meade served an important place for the United Northern America's military. The site is home to the primary headquarters of the Office of Strategic Services. The OSS job was to be the primary intelligence gather for the UNA. It is split into two groups, the Military side, which does covert, black ops and overt operation and the civilian side, which does the analyzing of the intelligence and the does most the undercover work. The headquarters looked like any military office building, but like most intelligence places, it is more than meets the eye. Inside its halls, men and women work around the clock and with the invasion of Gallia, it gave a lot work to do. A lone figure stood before the large, but simple symbol of the OSS. The large and worn steel had a large spearhead and part of the shaft, the border read simple, The Office of Strategic Services. The figure stood before it wore a dark green dress uniform, his cover under his arm. The right side of the chest had two and half rows of ribbons and the collar had a simple brass button with raised letters reading, OSS. On each of the shoulders was brass oak leaf, marking him as a Major. The left breast of the suit had a black name tag, Patterson in white letters. Footsteps come from down the hall, each step clicking. Patterson turns his head slightly and watch a tall man walking towards him. Instead of a military uniform, this person wore a suit and tie, ruffed as if he was sleeping in it. On his right lapel was a flag with a blue field with fourteen stars and thirteen stripes of red and white. The right breast pocket had a security badge, a white card with the last name in bold print, Lehman, David along with a picture and the OSS coat of arms, the same simple one on the wall. He nods in greeting upon reaching the man in the uniform.

"Morning Mal," he said patting him on the shoulder.

"Morning Dave, you ready for this briefing?" asked Mal.

"Are you kidding me, ever since Gallia has been invaded, every counterpart in every allied agency has been pestering my department twenty-four seven. I am running on the combined total of one and half hours of sleep a night. I am just glad I am letting you do the talking. Besides they been at this all night," replied Dave with a yawn.

"Damn, all night. I kinda feel sorry for all those guys in there," said Mal.

"I do too, especially with Control and Wild Bill in there exhausted, it is only a matter of time before one of those two just get up and flip a table before storming out and calling the President go to Defcon 2 with the Nuclear forces," joked Dave. Mal chuckled.

The two heads of the OSS, Major General William "Wild Bill" Sherman and the man known only as Control, were legends in their own right. Both headed the two main branches, the Special Operations and the Covert Operations. Wild Bill was known to use unconventional tactics to accomplish operations back when he was younger and did not hold such a high rank. The other man, Control, is a mystery. Little is know about him, not his real name or what he did before becoming the controller of all covert operations.

"In that case, better hurry. The last thing we need is to have the Silos opening up," replied Mal.

The two walked down the hall, with men and women hurrying to meeting, offices, or even outside for a smoke break to calm their nerves. The Invasion of Gallia has been stressful on everyone in the OSS, trying to predicted the Imperial movements of troops, armor, even the Scouting Legion, a highly trained and merciless force that the Imperial forces deployed on the battlefields. Most of the information is passed over to the Gallia military, in vain hope that they can turn back the invasion that is sweeping across their country. However each passing day bring worse and worse news, a village or town falling to the enemy tide here, a whole battalion wiped out there, and each time it brings the feeling of hopelessness to the countries of the Alliance, to see their ally being destroyed and there isn't anything they could do to stop it. The situation room, was designed to allow men from all of the intelligence could come and find solutions to pressing matters affecting the Alliance. Two armed men stood guard outside, each with a combat shotgun loaded up and ready. Checking both Dave and Mal, they allowed them through. The room, to say the least, was hectic, people running from one side to another, people yelling into telephones, and people completely focus on the task in front of them. Down to the far right corner was a wood paneled room, cut off from the rest of the room. Following Dave, Mal runs his hand thru his short, dark brown hair, trying not to get knocked over. Dave approached the metal door leading to the room, and stopped to punch in a code into the keypad.

"I hope they agree with your idea, buddy boy. It might help them out, if the country didn't fall when I was out getting ready," said Dave.

"I hope so too," replied Mal.

They both walked into the room, and was greeted by the wall of stench coming from stale coffee and heavy use of tobacco smoke. The wooden conference table in the middle of the room had papers and printouts strewn across the table. A coffee machine stood on counter, the pervious white finish is now stained dark brown. Built into the wall is a screen with a map of Gallia, about the half the country was in blue and the other half is in red. There were four other men in the room, three of them wore military B uniforms and one looked like a college professor in a crimson and teal checkered scarf and tweed jacket. A wooden pipe was clenched in his teeth and a pair of thick rimmed glasses sat pushed up on the bald head as the individual read several papers, shaking his head. One of the men was sitting at the table, with his head in his hands, wore a sky blue uniform with a red tie. Another with a cup of coffee in his hands wore a dark green uniform. The last one, with highlighter in hand and a stack of sheets in the other wore a similar uniform to Mal, however the shoulders each had three silver stars. He also had a nicely groomed facial hair, which was unusual for normally officers had to be clean shaven.

"Gentlemen, I have brought Major Malcolm Patterson with me, he thinks he has an idea to help with the situation," announced Dave passing the proverbial floor to Mal.

The men in the room turned their attention to Mal. Clearing his throat, he begins to speak.

"Gentlemen, I have been looking at the current situation in Gallia and I believe the situation is dire. The country is going to fall sometime soon," reported Mal.

"Tell us something we do not know, Major. My country is living on borrowed time," interrupted the man in the blue uniform.

"Calm down Colonel Sobchack, lets listen to what Major Patterson has to say before jumping to conclusions," replied the man in the tweed jacket.

"Thank you Control. Like I was saying, it is only the matter of time before the country falls. However I believe it could not be the end of Gallia. I propose that someone goes in country and helps form a resistance group to fight back. I also want to volunteer for this position," said Mal.

"You want to go in Yank, Ifreann na Fola, what type steel is make up your balls?" asked the man in the dark green uniform.

"General Plunkett, I trained this man years ago. Major Patterson is highly capable young man who has done some courageous things for this country and the Alliance in several peacekeeping operations," said Wild Bill.

"If you don't mind me asking Major, what do you bring to the table?" asked Colonel Sobchak.

"Sir, I am a Counterinsurgency Specialist," answered Mal.

"That could be useful skill in an occupied country, Colonel. He would know how to counter all attempts to crush the resistance. I could order him in to help out, but it will fall down on you and your government for the final decision," said Control.

"Wait, wouldn't this be a military incursion? Those bastards from the feckin Federation will make a lot of noise, or worse, carry out that nuclear war promise," pointed Plunkett.

"This operation will not exist. You do realized what this means Major?" asked Wild Bill.

"If I am captured or killed and they somehow find my identification, you have never seen or heard of me and all official records of me including my birth certificate will be pulled and burned," answered Mal flatly. He knew the risks.

"I just have one more question Major. Why are you willing to risk your life for my country? You are willing to go in and lend a hand and risk ceasing to exist if something happens. Again why?" asked Sobchak. Mal wet his dry lips ready to give a response.

"Because during my first deployment as an OSS operative was within Gallia, Sir. I work alongside your forces to remove several spy cells within your borders and just fell in love with your country. Ever since those Imperials marched into your country, I was looking for every chance to go in and help out. I just can't just stand idly by and watch a magnificent country as Gallia fall under an oppressive heel of the Imperials. I would be saying the same thing even if the Federation invaded. I believe the OSS motto, Quo fit ut alii se vivere, So that others may live, Sir."

The room fell to silence after the weight of his words. The silence was not complete however, because of the chaos outside the walls room, the operations room a place of chaos.

"Major Malcolm, I will call the embassy to ask them but I do believe know what the answer will be. At this point, I can confidently say on behalf of a besieged Gallia, we cannot thank you enough," a slightly reviled Sobchak.

Wild Bill stood up and walk over to Mal.

"I hope you know what you are doing son. This could mean your funeral if something would go wrong," he said.

"Sir, I know my father would have done the same thing. Sometimes you have to help the many, by the willing sacrifices of the few," responded Mal.

Wild Bill study his face for a moment before laying a hand on his shoulder.

"Since you are part of my department, I have the final say on your deployment. As much as would like to send someone else or come up with a better solution, I realized that time is of the essence and I will authorize your deployment."

"Remember you need a case officer to relay information to you. Dave, you look tired. I understand you have less than two hours of sleep a night. How would you like to be a case officer?" asked Control to Dave, who was in the corner chugging coffee, ignoring the searing pain.

"That would be great. I am beginning to think this stuff can't be good for my heart," replied Dave, his left eyelid twitching slightly with the caffeine buzz.

"Sir. Permission to prepare for the op?" asked Mal.

"Permission granted, as of now you have less than six hours to prepare. Stay by a phone for further information and a possible dismissal of the operation," answered Wild Bill.

With a salute, Mal turned and exited the room. Pressing a button, the door slid open and quickly slid close.

"What was that all about Bill?" asked Plunkett.

"Another story to tell sometime." Plunkett decided not to pursue it any further. Meanwhile, Sobchak was on the phone with his embassy, relaying the plan that could help save Gallia from permanent destruction.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter II: Radioactive Dawn

Route No. 69, Gallia

October 22

21 Days since the Invasion

2115

The noise of the distant fighting was a constant background noise, machine gunfire and explosions brought the sound of death and destruction. A light rain added the constant noise as it pattered against the canvas tent. Inside five people stood around a beat up map board, listening to the radio bring cries of help from both military units and civilians alike. There was nothing they could do. The one closest to the radio, rubbed his forehead with his gloved hand, trying to locate positions to go and help people in case the order comes down to go in and save people left behind when army units start to pull out. Next to him stood a young woman wearing a red and white bandana over her brown hair in two pony tails. By the entrance to the tent, stood a powerfully built woman, holding a M240 machine gun. Her armor was heavier than the others in the tent, with pouches bulging by holding big ammunition cases. Behind the radio, a short hair woman tried to focus on a piece of machinery in front of her, her creamed colored shawl dirtied by earth and specks of blood. A man stood away from most, a Red Cross patch adorn his right sleeve on his uniform. He focused on a black medical bag in front of him, trying his hardest not to be saddened by the news on the radio. The last person leaned against a pole, her chin length raven black hair hid her hazel left eye. They all wore a dark green Multicam uniforms, standard with both Gallian and UNA forces. A transmission comes through another radio, part of another network all together.

"Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, come in this Colonel Varrot, over."

Welkin hurried over to the other set.

"This is Lieutenant Gunther, go ahead Colonel," he spoke into the radio set.

"I have new orders from high command, you are to rondevu with an OSS operative coming in over," said Varrot over the radio.

"Colonel, can we also assist in the evacuation of Trihall, it sounds desperate down there."

"Negative Lieutenant. Your orders are to guard that road against enemy units. After that, the unit you have currently and the two men at FOB Baker are to melt into the countryside and conduct resistance operations with the OSS Operative."

"Yes Colonel, but what about the rest of Squad Seven?"

"They are going to be evacuated along with what's left of the regiment to Erin. The Alliance is beginning to evacuate all available units and the as many civilians as they can."

"Understood Colonel, who is the OSS operative?"

"He is Major Malcolm Patterson and believe it or not, he volunteered to jump into combat to rondevu with you. He is supposed to land a grid square 00967856 by 2300 hrs. Once you meet up, proceed to FOB Baker and escape in the Edelweiss and do try to disguise your tank."

"Yes Ma'am, WILCO."

"Report in once you leave FOB Baker directly to me, contact either via by radio or SAT phone. Over and Out," Varrot said then clearing the channel.

Welkin stepped back from the radio.

"Does that mean we lost the war?" asked the medic.

"I don't think so Dude, I we are just retreating to regroup," answered Welkin.

"Sounds like we are going guerilla on these guys. Can't wait to kill every last one of those rotten Imps," said Imca, patting the butt stock of her machine gun.

A loud explosion sounds, shaking the ground underneath. On the regular radio network, a nearby mortar unit reported on of their mortar tubes had a High explosive shell denoted in the tube, causing a chain reaction in their ammo dump. They are now pulling back to safer positions.

"We are separated from the rest of the squad, I hope they are all okay," said Alicia, silently saying a prayer for their safety.

"He should be landing soon, my guess by HALO jumps, the only way he could come in without the Imperials spotting him. Marina, you are the most stealthy one here and can hear enemy patrols a long way off, I need you to go to grid square 00967856 and meet up with this Major Malcolm and bring him here," ordered Welkin.

"Okay, consider it done," quietly said Marina. She starts to walk to the mouth of the tent.

"Wait, you almost forgot your rifle. I tried to repair it the best I can," said Isara stopping with the device she was messing with and reached under the table.

She pulled out an ugly looking rifle, the rusty barrel tied on with cattle wire, the stock split, the scope held on by loose mounts. The weapon was from a bygone era and should have been chucked out long ago, but instead, somehow ended up in Marina's hands. The rifle could not hit anything, making her role as a sniper futile if she could not hit the target.

"Thanks for trying, I guess I still have to use this piece of junk that some quartermaster gave me," said Marina.

She picked up her broken and battered rifle and headed out in the advancing darkness.

High above the country of Gallia, a dark colored C-119 Flying Boxcar soared. Its twin boomed tail was unique among most transports, capable of flying in all weather conditions. The aircraft was just above the clouds that blanket the ground, hiding it from view. Inside, Mal sat on a cargo net bench. He was doing a final check on his person, making sure all of his straps are tight and his buckles clipped. He adjusted his combat helmet, making it sit more comfortably on his head. His waterproof green tactical jacket was zipped up and his green camouflaged pants are bloused into his tan combat boots. He pats the pockets that held his lucky goggles and his suppressor for his pistol, an S&W M39 pistol strapped to his leg. Before him was a black pelican box, carrying his plate carrier, his patrol pack, and his green camo M416, ready to be pushed out of the plane.

"Yo, OSS, the Cap wanted me to tell you three minutes before we reach the target area," yelled the Loadmaster of the plane.

"Thanks for the heads up," Mal shouted back.

He stood up and stretched his back, and brought the black face mask closer to his face. He also lowered the clear plastic goggles used for HALO jumping.

"You must be crazy to perform this jump, that or you are an adrenaline junkie," shouted the Loadmaster over the din of the engines.

"Chalk me up for being a crazy idiot. I hate these jumps, last time I did it a sudden burst of high wind pushed me into a clutch of razor wire, my legs and torso were all cut up and I still have several scars from the deeper wounds," answered Mal.

"In that case, have a swig to luck and courage then," shouted the Loadmaster.

He pulled out a hip flask out of his jumpsuit pocket and handed it to Mal. Unscrewing the lid, he gulps a large mouthful of courage. He cringed at the gasoline tasting liquid flowing past his tongue, gagging the liquid down. The Loadmaster slaps Mal on the back taking back the flask.

"What the hell was that shit?" yelled Mal.

The Loadmaster laughed and took a swig himself.

"This is what happens when you navigator is a gorram hick from the backwoods who paid for college on Moonshine and the taxpayer's dime. He makes his Moonshine in a distillery in the tails every time we fly so we can enjoy it when we land. But I like to save some for flights like this!"

"That explains the gasoline taste in this thing!"

A bright red light flashed repeatedly. The Loadmaster glanced at this and puts away the flask as he rushed over to the back loading doors. Mal took this a the signal that they are doing the final approach now, pulled the clear plastic goggles over his eyes and tightens the black face mask over his mouth and nose. Taking position behind the case, he awaits for the opening of the doors. In an instant all the light went out except on, a dim light red light. The load door started to whine open as the rush of cold, night air blew in. The Loadmaster silhouetted held out a thumbs up and Mal returned it right back. For a moment the red light went out, then it was replaced by a green light. Mal pushed the box towards the gaping opening in the aircraft as fast as he could. Approaching the end, he could barely make out the Loadmaster clinging on to lifeline. On the ramp, the case fell down, followed by Mal, who couldn't resist but yelling out a cheesy word people always say when jumping out of planes.

"GERONIMO!"

The plane flew off in the opposite direction than Mal fell, his body spread out to offer as much air resistance as possible to slow down the fall. The moon cast a dull glow on the clouds that was approaching rather quickly. The black case already disappeared into the fluffiness of the clouds, Mal knew how to find it. The fall through the clouds felt like nothing, and he soon emerged from it to the underneath, closer to the ground. At this height, Mal could see the battle unfolding in the town of Trihall. The whole town was consumed in flames as tracers fired from weapons arced and flew over the ground. A few lines of tracers were fired into the air at some helicopter flying to support the troops on the ground. Ten kilometers from the edge of town, a thin line of headlights headed away from the town outskirts, the civilian population who was managed to escape the fighting. Flares fired to cast eerie red light over dark places in town not light up by the fires. Artillery batteries flashed their barrels sending their payload of death to pockets of resistance holding up their comrades on the ground. Closer he gets, the more detail emerged, burnout trucks, turretless tanks, and overruned Gallian positions. Mal glanced at the altitude monitor attached to his wrist and saw it was time to pull the rip cord to the chute on his back. A bone jarring shake following a muted sound of a chute leaving it's pack allowed Mal to start to steer himself away from town towards to lights of the refugees. He had to find his gear and follow the road to an outpost run by Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, which before he left Wild Bill was giving a complete history of the young Lieutenant's famous father who not only saved Gallia multiple times, but General Belegen Gunther was one of the few people Wild Bill praised and consider a close friend. As the ground fast approached, Mal bent his legs and prepared himself for the shock of landing. Upon hitting the ground, he rolled to soak up further shock to his system, before rising to a knelling position to tear off the chute, the oxygen mask, and the jump goggles. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out his lucky pair, puts them on his helmet and pulls out a thin rectangle box with a series of lights to track down his box with. Pulling out his M39 and screwed on the suppressor, he quickly set out in the direction of the case, eager to get out of the area before the Imperials finally overrun the Gallian positions and flood into the forest around him.

Unknown to Mal, his final descent with the parachute was being watched. Marina carefully perched herself in a tree, scanning the area around her with a pair of binoculars, looking for any signs of ether Imperial troops or the OSS operative who was supposed to be landing soon. A muted fwump was heard and she trained her binoculars to the source of the noise. Hanging by a blacked out parachute, a was figure suspended. Deciding that this must be the OSS agent she looked around when she heard a second fwump behind her. Turning once again to the source, another blacken out parachute descended, instead of a person, this one held a long black box. It was much closer than the OSS operative and she assumed it was his gear.

"He has to go and retrieve his stuff, I'll meet him there" she decided.

As Marina started to climbed down, voices came down the trail next to the tree she was in. The voices sound relaxed, not caring that they are in a combat zone.

"So Yuri attacked that position with only his knife and one grenade, and those Gallian cowards mowed him down, big mistake," came one of the voices.

"I was there, remember. Yuri threw the grenade into their fuel supply for their APC and the whole block shook," came the other voice.

"Whatever man, it had to be the most epic thing Yuri had ever down, he even killed one of those dark hair freaks," came the previous voice.

As Marina crouched down on a branched and waited. Two Imperial soldiers appeared walking down the path, without a care in the world. Their camouflage was colored pale green, brown, and tan in a vine looking pattern and their gear was bulky. Their AR-33s were not in their hands but instead suspended by a strap. Not even paying attention, they passed under to tree Marina sat in, stopped right underneath her before pulling out cigarettes packs to smoke. Marina made a quick decision to kill these two. Jumping out of the tree on top of one, she pointed her rifle in the general direction of the other soldier and squeezed the trigger. The rifle went off in her hands, the last time it will ever be fired for the barrel cracked right down the middle rendering it useless. It did it's job however, killing the surprised soldier instantly. The one Marina jumped on fumbled for his rifle, but before getting his finger on the trigger, Marina's butt stock smashed into his face sending his helmet flying. The stock shattered in hundreds of pieces, leaving Marina with a sharpened end. Deciding how to use it, she charged forward to the stunned soldier and rammed the broken end into his throat, driving it deep into the soft tissue and tearing apart arteries and the windpipe. Blood squirted all over the now useless rifle as Marina finally let go and let the broken weapon dropped to the ground. Breathing hard, Marina took in what she just did. The rifle shot split the head apart spilling his brains on the ground, steam coming off the brains previously encased in the skull into the cold air. The other soldier finally stop twitching, the blood now oozed out instead of spraying everywhere. Marina clenched her hands in to fists and squeezed her eyelids closed so hard that she saw little orbs of light float in her vision. She hated killing, even if the people she killed are murders and rapist, she still hated taking a human life. She was a natural hunter, hunting since she was five with her father nineteen years ago. Hunting animal were different, she would not always get the kill. Some animals who ether died by ether bullets or other causes, she would bury them in the ground. Even the wolves she hunted, she would still honor the maleficent creatures by giving them a burial. She always wanted to do the same with every one regardless if they are Imperials or fallen comrades, however lines of battle constantly changing rendering that thought worthless. Marina eventually opened her eyes and turned around to the direction of the case. She drew her pistol, a M1911 that belonged to her father and rushed to the landing site of the case.

Approaching the case, she already noticed two Imperial soldiers looking over the case with interest. Most of their focus was on the case, they never saw a figure approaching them from behind. Marina watch the figure slowly crept with a suppressed pistol out and aimed at one of their heads. When he got close enough to make sure he wouldn't even miss, he fired at the base of the neck on one and punched another in the throat. As the soldier recoiled back, choking, the figure fired the remaining rounds into the face of the wounded soldier, each shot was a whispered rush of air. Standing over the bodies, the figure dropped the empty magazine, slaps in a fresh one, and unscrewed the suppressor. As he walked over to the case, he muttered what sounded like it never gets easier. Marina silently watch this man open the case first taking off his helmet and threw over his head a dark green plate carrier which had magazine pouches, grenade pouches, canteens and a large unitary bag. He also threw on a black patrol pack before putting back on his helmet. He finally pulls out a camouflaged M416 and takes a moment to look at a Red 82nd Airborne patch. He then fiddled with a ACOG scope, and clipped the rifle to a sling to allow the user to use his hands with the rifle still in reach. He closed the case and started to tap on a keypad. Marina silently walked up behind the man and brought the pistol up to aim at his head. She was sure this was the OSS agent, however she had to be sure.

"Put your hands behind your head, stand up and turn around slowly," ordered Marina. The man froze then moved his hands behind his head.

"You might as well shoot me now Imperial bastard, because I will snap your neck with ease if you don't," he replied.

"Calling me a Imp is an insulate to a Gallian you know," answered Marina, now sure that his was the person she was supposed to meet up with.

The man turned around and kept his hands behind his head.

"Are you part of the unit under the command of Second Lieutenant Welkin Gunther?" he asked.

"I'am, you must be the OSS agent I was supposed to meet up with," answered Marina.

"Major Malcolm Patterson, Office of Strategic Services, call me Mal. I would shake your hand, but," Mal said raising his hands slightly over his head before moving them back down.

"You can lower your hands. Corporal Marina Wulfstan, Squad Seven of the Gallian Militia Regiment Three," said Marina. "I hope you are not expecting a salute."

"I don't. I am not a REMF."

Marina nodded, happy it is not some analyst with a gun.

"Let's get you to the outpost, Welkin would want to meet you," said Marina taking lead.

"You just have a sidearm, what happen to your primary?"

"I had to use it as a melee weapon to put down two Imps. It's is a rifle that should have trashed years ago," Marina said turning her head slightly back to Mal.

Mal was thinking that he was stuck with a psychopathic soldier who enjoys killing, however one look at Marina's eye was enough to silence that thought. The idea that the eyes are a window to one's soul had to be true. What Mal saw was not insanity or that of a psycho killer but instead of one who is tired, tired of killing but realized the moment she stops, she would put her friends and comrades at risk in being killed. So she had to keep killing to protect those she cares about.

"Alright, let's get going shall we. By the way if you need a rifle, take mine for the time being," offered Mal.

"No, keep it. I prefer a more traditional rifle instead of assault rifle," Marina replied back.

The both disappeared into the woods as the case spontaneously combusted into flames, destroying the last mark of a allied foreign agent on Gallia soil.

0115

October 23

22 days since the Invasion

Welkin glanced at his watch again, the fifth time in the past twenty minutes.

"Marina should have been back by now with the OSS agent in tow. Did I just sent her out to die?" wondered Welkin to himself.

"I think they are hiding, probably an Imperial patrol. Marina is the most stealthy of all of us, I am pretty sure that she would know not to blow her cover by opening fire," softly replied Alicia.

Welkin nodded his head, but still was nervous. For the past nineteen days since becoming a Lieutenant in charge of Squad Seven, he had to overcome his greenness and prove himself in the eyes of veteran soldiers, stop most hatred of the Darcsen members of the unit include on his adopted sister Isara by other soldiers in his squad and them bring them together as a team, and overcome almost impossible odds in attempt to turn back the tide of the invasion. It prove to be futile, now the country is going to fall and the Government is trying to get every soldier out of the country in the hope of coming back to save Gallia. But he, Welkin Gunther had to stay behind and resist to the fullest of his capacity.

"I see movement!" shouted out Imca.

"Imca, don't shoot. Friendlies coming," shouted Marina.

Welkin rushed to the opening. He watch as Marina and Mal hurried into the tent.

"Thank God you're still alive. Did you run into any patrols?" asked a relieved Welkin.

"A light tank and infantry unit passed by us forcing us to hide. That is why we are late. I got the OSS agent with me as you can see," reported Marina. Mal step next to her and held out his right hand.

"Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, Major Mal Patterson. It is a pleasure to meet you," said Mal.

"Likewise Major. What is your first orders?" asked Welkin taking the hand and shaking it.

"First just call me Mal. Second, I was sent here as an advisory role to help establish and fight alongside the resistance. You are in charge Lieutenant. I should be asking you what are your orders are," answered Mal.

Welkin was slightly taken back, a higher ranking office telling him that he was in charge. He never expected that, he thought that the OSS agent would take charge. Regaining composer

Welkin nodded his head in agreement.

"Right, the first order of business is to meet the rest of the unit. You have already met Marina our sniper. The one with the 240 is Imca, she is the primary support gunner. The medic is Jeffrey Lebowski, but we call him the Dude," said Welkin.

"Like the Dude from that movie?" asked Mal.

"Yeah man, all the Dude wanted was to get his rug back and now the Dude is a combat medic without a White Caucasian man," joking said the Dude.

"This is also Alicia, our chief scout and Isara, my sister and our tank driver. We also have two guys in a forward base not far from here with our tank hidden," finished Welkin.

They walk over to the map board as Welkin continued to explain the situation. The radio crackles as the local commander of Gallia armored battalion gives the order to retreat, which comes as a relief to the occupants of the outpost.

"Finally we can get out of here, I guess when can leave those suits behind," said Alicia.

"What suits?" asked Mal.

"The NBC suits they issued to us in that crate over there," Welkin said pointing to a metal crate,

"There was reports of the Imperials moving what looked like chemical troops in the area, the thought was that they were going to release a chemical agent and we have lots of spares incase they released it with civilians near the outpost."

"Attention all Gallia units, I have seen a missile launch from the eastern part of town take cover!" yelled a person on the radio.

"This is it, they are going to gas us!" yelled another.

"That isn't a chemical missile. That is, Oh My God. We are all dead!" yelled an older voice.

Imca looked out and saw the streak of fire and light flying behind a silver arrow like object. At the top of its arc, it began to fall back down to earth. Deep down inside, Imca had a feeling what the missile carried.

"Hit the dirt. Now!" screamed the frighten Imca.

Everyone took cover as the missile disappeared in a brilliant and blinding light. For a few moments the world was silent. The light shone thru closed eyelids and hands covering eyes from the flash, showing the people the tent their bones of their hands, much like someone looking at

an x-ray of their hand. Then came a terrible crash of thunder and a intense wind that blew over trees, tore holes in the tent, toppled radios, and flung tables around like they were toys. Then a second howl sounded as anything not tied down or laying on the ground flew out as if a giant vacuum was turned on. Then as things settled down as a distant rumble is heard. Cautiously, they all pick themselves off the ground and move closer to the opening of the tent. What they saw shook them to the core. Over the town, was a dark mushroom cloud with dulled red and orange glows and lighting flashed in the cloud. It looked as if Hell's gate was blown right open.

"They did it, I can't believe they actually did it," muttered a stunned Alicia.

"And he takes on his multi arm from and says I have become death, the destroyer of worlds," muttered Mal, quoting a long forgotten physicist, the father of the atomic weaponry.

Isara was already breaking open the metal crate and started to grab green canvas bag and clear plastic bags with its contains on display.

"Isara, what are you doing with the chem suits out. That was a fucking nuke!" panic the Dude.

"First off, you are being very undude. Second, these are NBC suits with the N standing for Nuclear. They can block out the fallout long enough to seek shelter or a airtight vehicle and using a simple formula with the initial denotation to the point the blast wave hit us was five point 3 seconds, which means we have roughly twenty-five minutes to don the suits and flee," responded Isara cutting open all of the packages.

Each package she pulled out a rubber looking overcoat, pants, and boot covers.

"Alright people, start donning on the suits, like Isara said, we do not have much time," ordered Welkin.

The all rushed and started to put on the stiff suits as fast as they could. Those who finished first started to help others into theirs. Grabbing the bags and tearing into them, they pulled out the black rubber and plastic masks. Before putting on the mask, Mal glanced at his watch. It took them roughly four minutes to don the suits. Subtracting the few minutes from the shock of watching the cloud form, he took mental note of the time of denotation, 0123.

"Alright lets get a move on, the longer we stand here, the higher possibility that they will find only glowing bones," said Welkins before putting on the mask.

The others followed suit and also pull a hood over their head to better seal the suit. They all set out into the darkness, their back illuminated by the atomic fires from the ruins of Trihall. The mushroom cloud continued to grow, spreading death and destruction as far as it can.

"Get your ass in gear Otto, we need to get that recording gear out and up before the fallout hits," ordered Sergeant Shailer.

Otto climbed out of the brightly lit interior of the OCS-60 NBC Recon vehicle of the Royal Imperial Chemical Warfare Corp. He was hauling a large rectangular box with a series of antenna and a tripod mount. Setting it up, he had to stretch his back.

"There, it is set up Sarge, we should go. The fallout should be settling soon and I can already tell you that it is going to give us at least 50 rads a second if we remain out here," commented Otto.

Sergeant Shailer shrugged and started to head back into the vehicle when snapping branches spun them both around. Emerging from the tree line was seven dark figures, their bug eyes faces shown no emotion. Fumbling for their weapons, a hail of bullets tore into their flesh and cut both sergeant Shailer and Otto lives short. As Otto laid there with his blood pooling around him and life leaving him, he looks at the seven figures running towards him. It reminded Otto of the fortune teller had warned him years and years ago. In the face of destruction, seven avenging spirits will come and kill him. The prediction came true as Otto faded from life to death.

"Come on let's get in, the fallout is upon us!" yelled Welkins, his voice muffled by the gas mask.

Behind fast approaching was storm clouds, the lightning flashes across the land. The Mushroom cloud is finally decaying behind them. The fires from the blast provides the only constant light to see. The dead Imperial soldiers lay out on the ground, their red Hazmat suits seem out of place in a combat environment. It didn't matter now, the rain was about to start to fall and it was only a matter of time before the radiation would contaminate them and kill them. The squad piled in quickly into the vehicle just as the first drops of rain began to fall. It was not like normal rain, but instead pitch black. The door manage to close behind them before the full fury of the storm descend upon the land.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter III: The Fallout

Route No. 69, Gallia

October 23

22 days since the Invasion

0148

The only noise inside the vehicle was high pitched crackling, the speed of the crackling was almost sounded like a whine. Everyone's faces were covered by the bug eye gas mask, eyes wide with fear. Did radiation from the outside start leaking into the vehicle? If so, then everyone's proverbial number had come up. The shortest one among the squad, Isara gets up and crawls over to a console with light flashing. Looking at it, she lowers her hood and pulled off her mask.

Welkin and Alicia got up and rushed to her, trying to pull back on the mask over her face. She batted them away and flipped a few switches and whining crackle was replaced with a steady crackle.

"There, you can take the gear off now. It is safe," said Isara.

"What do you mean it is safe now?!" shouted a frighten Imca.

"What we were listening to was the Geiger Counter on the outside. In here is a normal readout showing the inside to the recon vehicle. I other words, we have a normal count of radiation."

"Oh, sorry."

Everyone pulled off the masks and took a deep breath of clean, stale air.

"I hate wearing these things, stuffy and always makes you sweat like a pig," complained Mal, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

"Actually pigs don't sweat. That is why they rolled around in mud," responded Welkins. Mal raised an eyebrow.

"I was a biology student before the war," explained Welkin.

"Alright then," said Mal getting it.

"Can someone drive this tin can, I think we all do not want to glow in the dark," asked Marina, taking off the overcoat.

"Sure thing. It will be like driving the ambulance back home, just slightly wider, and it is through a radioactive fallout. Where to boss man?" rambled on the Dude.

Welkin pulled out a map and attempt to turn on a radio, only to be met with a burst of ear piercing static. Turning it off, he sighs and starts to plot out a route on the map.

"The bomb must have knockout communications, so we have no idea how far the Imperials have advanced, they might be at FOB Baker, and that is where Karl and Jerome are at along with the Edelweiss," said Welkins.

"The Edelweiss?" asked Mal.

"Our tank, it is a two man medium tank. Normally tanks have more than two people operating them, however, Isara's father and mine designed it to be quicker and better protected than most other tanks. Anyway, we need to get there before the enemy does, it is only a matter of time. You should know the route, Dude."

"You got it boss man, setting course on the road to journey. And may that road end in a White Caucasian and a rug that will tie to room together," joked the Dude.

The roar of the powerful engine breaks the silence of the outside world, the black rains still fell upon the earth. The remains of Trihall behind them, the squad set out for the distant base.

0330

FOB Baker

Status: Overrunned

"How is he doing?" asked Karl Landzaat pushing up his glasses further up his face.

"Not very good, Jerome lost a lot of blood and I think the bullet hit his liver. He doesn't have a lot of time left," answered Lynn, unscrewing the top to her canteen with her bloody hands. Her dark violet hair was did up in a ponytail was soaked in sweat.

"We do not have a working radio to use without the Imps outside hearing us. And if it is true what we can hear, those guys dropped a nuke on Trihall, Welkins was at Trihall," pointed out a nervous Karl.

"I am sure that they are all right, we all survived some things that should have killed us in this war, including the Imps hunting down all Darcsens to send them off to God knows where. I even think they might be close by," said Lynn, screwing the cap back on her canteen, difficult with her hands shaking.

Above them, a series of knocks on a hatch stirred them into action. Lynn snatched up her weapon, M96 and pointed at the hatch. Karl clenched a knife and cautiously climbed the ladder and open the hatched. In the hatch way was the head of Welkin.

"Sir!" gasped Karl almost falling off the ladder.

Welkin climbed down the ladder, his UMP bumping into his back.

"Glad to see you are alive, we saw the Imperial flag over the FOB, we feared the worst. Lynn? What are you doing here, shouldn't you be with the rest of Squad Seven?" asked Welkin.

"I couldn't leave Karl behind Welkin," answered Lynn.

"I understand, where is Jerome?" asked Welkin.

"He was shot when the Imps took the base, he is dying," answered Lynn.

Welkin bit his lip and climbed back up the ladder to wave the rest of the squad in. Hurrying down the ladder. The six others descended the ladder in the dark subterranean bunker. The look of relief was exchanged and Lynn lead the medic away to a side room to work on their fellow soldier.

"I honestly thought you all perished. We eavesdropped on the Imps and it sounded like they dropped a nuke on you guys," said Karl.

"It actually happen," said Marina.

Karl's eyes went wide and his jaw dropped. Welkin patted him on the shoulder.

"Don't worry, we don't glow in the dark," said Welkin.

Mal closed the hatch and walked over to Karl, Welkin, and Marina.

"Those Imperials look like they are holed up in the walled off barracks like you thought. They are not even patrolling the road," reported Mal.

"Karl, this is Major Mal with the OSS, he is here to help us resist," introduced Welkin.

Karl shook his head, muttering this day is getting stranger and stranger by the minute.

"Welks, Isara wanted to me to tell you that the Edelweiss is ready to go on your orders," said

Alicia next to a tank jabbing her thumb to the tank sitting in the bunker.

The Edelweiss was in the back of the bunker, it's rounded turret sat low on the hull. The forward armor slanted forward to give it better protection. The turret and the sides of the hull had backpacks and bags tied down. The dark green and black camouflage pattern was an out of date one, but the tank did have battle scars and chipped paint.

"So that is the Edelweiss? Kinda smaller than I suspected," observed Mal.

"It is designed to be like that. Fast and hard to hit," said Alicia defending the tank.

"To be honest, I never have work with tanks before, but we will need a secondary vehicle, is there a motor pool the enemy left intact by chance?" asked Mal.

"Believe it or not, yes. I saw through the peephole I drilled in the door was a lot of civilian cars and jeeps being parked in the motor pool area. I do not know why, but it seems they are gathering civilian vehicles for something big, maybe confiscating them," answered Karl, nervously adjusting his glasses.

"Well we will start there, we will need anything that can go off road and can blend in with the population," said Mal.

"Alright, me, Alicia, and Isara will get the tank up and running, Mal, I need your to take Karl, Marina, Imca, Dude, and Lynn and see if you can procure a vehicle to use. Kurtz can be in the tank with us. The Edelweiss will pull out of here in about thirty minutes, will that be enough time to do that?" ordered Welkins.

"You got it, we will get it done."

"Alright, let's get out of here squad."

Karl and Marina looked to Mal, awaiting orders as the other come back in, carrying a stretcher with a body underneath the blood strain camouflage blouse, the face covered with it.

"Welkin, Jerome is dead. There was nothing I could do, the bullet punctured his liver," said the Dude, ducking his eyes in shame.

"We will have to find a place to bury him and give him his final rights. War always take good people," said Welkin lowly.

"We still got to get out of here, Welkin, and we can't leave him here for the enemy," said Lynn.

"We will put him in the Edelweiss, you guys will follow Mal and get a vehicle to use to leave," ordered Welkin.

The nodded their heads in the understanding of the order, and silently walked to Mal.

"Sorry for your lost, but we do need to get out of here. If not, then the enemy will have a field day with the body along with rest of us, let us find some way outta of here," said Mal. They ascend the ladder, ready to face any enemy.

A short while later, Mal and Marina are slowly walking to a shack guarding the motor pool. Inside was two Imperial soldiers, drinking coffee to stay awake. They were chatting about their lives left behind, girlfriends to love and proposed too.

"Alright, let's try and knock these assholes out," whispered Mal.

"Okay, I just hate killing anyone who is talking about home," responded Marina.

Sneaking in the open door, Mal and Marina put the soldiers into a choke hold and held them in that position until they went limp. Letting them fall, Mal whistled and Imca, Lynn, Karl and the Dude rise up from the long grass and rushed over to the shack, weapons up and ready. Mal was already going through the keys, however the search is proving disappointing.

"So much fucking sport car key. For a love of Christ why can't one be a damn truck," he grumbled.

Marina look through another set and came up with one not belong to a sports car. Holding up a key and canvas strap holding the king and key ring. Marina tapped Mal on the shoulder.

"This will do," she remarked when Mal takes the strap. The strap had the Land Rover logo faded into the fabric

"It might, assuming it is not one of the luxury ones," replied Mal.

"Alright guys, let's get in there and look for a Land Rover," ordered Marina to the others, Karl barely paying attention.

"Ground control to Major Karl, can you hear us?" asked Imca, waving her hand in front of her face.

"Not really, look at all those cars, marvelous machines out there. Works of art, all of them," answered the far off Karl.

"Well the one we are looking for is hopefully very ugly," replied Mal.

Nodding his head, Karl opens the main gate and entered the motor pool along with the others, spreading out among the cars. Each one had a letter plastered on the passenger window, reading this fleet of luxury sports cars belong to General Jaeger of the Empire. Dude stop to one and with finesse and stealth, broke open the window, and stuck his arm in pulling out a powder cream, Koloa, and a bottle of vodka.

"Why the hell do you think you are doing?" asked Lynn coming up behind him.

"White Caucasian, White Caucasian for all," he whispered back.

Lynn shook her head and continued to look for something that is not a sports car. She eventually found Mal, Karl, Marina, and Imca standing before a beat up Land Rover Wolf, the truck is dirty from repeated use. A spare tire sat on top of the hood, ready in case one of the other four become incapable to use. The canvas covered back protect the passengers from the rain or snow and mud or sand.

"This is perfect, these damn things could last from till Judgment day," remarked Mal.

"It definitely would not win any beauty contests, but who cares about beauty when bullets start to fly and you have to go off road to avoid being killed," added on Marina.

"I still wish we could take one of those sports cars," mumbled Karl with disappointment.

"Don't worry buddy, I got some special medicine for us to enjoy," said the Dude with a armful of White Russian makings, finding more in the car's trunk.

"Alright, let's mount up, Welkins should be breaking out in five minutes and we will need make sure we follow that tank closely," ordered Mal.

He glances at his watch and shook his head, muttering, five minutes left.

Welkins sat in the turret with the hatches open, letting his head slump forward. He was exhausted and quietly angry at himself. A soldier under his command had died, his body in the tank. He should have done more somehow, somehow this was all his fault, the dead soldier.

"Welks, you okay?" said Alicia, gentle placing a hand on his shoulder.

"No, I should have done something more," he muttered.

"How could you, we were at Trihall when the base came under attack."

"Still, I was his officer. It was my job to make sure he lives and I failed at that job."

"This is war. No matter how much we try, we just cannot save everyone," sorrowly lamented Alicia. He turned to look at her, ready to comfort.

"Welks, all the engines are primed and ready to go, awaiting your command," said Isara deep in the tank at the controls.

"You ready Alicia?" asked Welkins. She nodded her head and gripped the grips for the M2 machine gun.

"Yes, let's get out of here."

"Is, start the engines. Time to leave this place," he ordered.

"You got it," came the reply.

The tank shudders as it turns on, a massive roar of the turbine engine could be heard from outside the underground bunker.

"Alright, lets move out!" shouted Welkins over the din.

With a jolt forward, the tank soon crashed through the wooden door covering the entrance and soon turn and sped down the road towards the metal gate at the opposite end of the compound. Behind them sirens sounded and gunshots zipped over their heads. Passing the motor pool, a dark green Land Rover peels out, knocking over a fence and follows closely behind.

"That's the rest of the squad, step on it Is! shouted Welkins into the intercom.

The Edelweiss lurched forward then back as the tank picked up more speed, crashing through the chain-link as if it was nothing. The Rover follows without hindrance, keeping up as if it was like the tank's little brother.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter IV: Hello, is the anybody in there

Belfast, Erin

October 23

22 days since the Invasion

0824

"Apologies your highness, but this is the best we can get for you last minute," apologized the man helping a young lady off the cargo plane.

"It is okay, I feel we should have saved more people," she responded quietly.

"We tried to save as much soldiers and civilians as we could and the crew of this craft is going to return to Gallia to try and save more. So don't you worry Princess Cordelia," the man assured her.

A groan comes from behind them, having the young Princess Cordelia to hike up her dress and rush back up to a hunched over and limping figure. His camouflaged uniform was stained red from blood and so was his light brown hair, matted on top of his head. A white bandage is wrapped over his left eye, a faint but slowly darkening red spot is where the eye should have been.

"Hold on brother, let me help you," she called out as she threw one of his arms over her shoulder and had him place most of his heavy bulk on her.

She strain under his weight but slowly walked off the ramp.

"You know, I could do it myself, I don't want to soil your dress," he said, trying to make a joke. The other man rushed and grabbed the other side.

"Sir, I would wish you would have stayed on the plane, we would have gotten you a wheelchair," said the other man.

As they approached the end of the ramp, two large armored cars sped up along with a limousine. They come to a halt as several soldiers in Gallian equipment rushed and relieved Cordelia and the man. A man in blue dress uniform stood at attention and saluted.

"Your Highnesses Princess Cordelia and Prince Richard, Major Sherlock Holmes of Gallia Finest 422nd Light Armor Battalion reporting," he reported.

"Are you our escort?" asked Cordelia.

"Yes your Highness, we are to escort you to Alliance Headquarters," Holmes answered.

"Very well, can you help me with my brother," Cordelia said, her voice trembling slightly.

Holmes moves and helps Richard into the Limo and steps back to help Cordelia into the Limo as well before climbing in himself. The Limo slid in between the two armored cars.

"Let me brief you on the security situation. Guarda, Erin national police force, is going to help with the convoy by providing a motorcade and helicopter escort. The convoy is going to cut thru Belfast as quickly as it can," Holmes said before being interrupted by the sudden stop. Reaching for his sidearm, he shouts up to the driver, "Why did we stop?"

"Refugees sir. Erin and our military trucks are moving them to the refugee camps right now," came the reply.

"Damn it, we are supposed to have priority," grumbled Holmes.

"Do remain calm major, these are our fellow countrymen that managed to flee the fighting," quietly said Cordelia.

"Yes your highness."

"Wait Cordelia, you left your wig on the plane. We need to turn around," ordered Richard.

"No, I am not ashamed of my family's blood. Let the Empire know that Gallia's leader has Darcsen in her," said Cordelia. Her shoulder length deep violet hair betraying her ancestor history.

"Very well. Driver let's get this convoy on the move, it is imperative we get to Alliance Command," order Holmes.

The City of Belfast is often consider one of the most beautiful cities in all of Europa. The Old Catholic churches are often hailed as some of the most stunning in the world. It's monuments dedicated to the fallen soldiers of both the First and Second World War was dedicated to all the sides of the conflict so everyone can grief equally. The shipyards, one could catch a glimpse of the new and luxurious cruise liners being built. The mood of the city was somber however. With several terrorist bombing including one that blew up a concert the Erin's National Army Band put on for children, everyone was on edge, especially when no one was taking the blame. At the center of the city stood a short and long glass and steel tower. The building belong to the Alliance military command, the place was home to several meeting halls and offices controlling the Alliance's military might. As the convoy pulled up to the entrance, Cordelia could not but be in awe at the power of her allies. The entrance had six flags, five represent the nations that made up the Alliance. The left most one was the flag of the United Northern America, the flag is made up with thirteen stripes of red and white and a blue field with fourteen white stars in a circle with a bigger one in the middle. The next one belongs to the Republic of Erin, it's a green with a golden star outline of the starry plough consolation. The one after that was her nation's flag, the Alliance still consider them a member. It blue and white pattern surrounded the coat of arms. The next one was the United Kingdom of Britannia, its blue flag had a large red cross with a shield. The top of the shield was a crown and in the center a lion and unicorn holds up the country coat of arms. The last of the nations' flags belong to the Union of Socialist Slavic Republics, the flag was a bright red with the upper corner closest to the pole had a golden hammer and sickle crossed and a large gold star in the middle of the red field. The final flag is dark blue with a white four pointed star in a circle in the center of the flag.

"We are here, your highness. They are waiting for you," announced Holmes opening the door and helping Cordelia out. She looks back into the cabin. Her brother was slumped against the wall of the car, gently snoring.

"What about Richard?" she asked.

"He will be brought to the hospital down the road. In the mean time you need to get to this meeting with the Alliance leadership."

With a nod she closes the door. The street in front of the building is deserted by the civilian population. Instead armed soldiers from the Alliance patrol, making sure nothing attacks the leaders inside. Cordelia and Holmes are escorted inside by members of the Light Armor while Garda helicopters fly high above.

The main meeting room is located deep within the bowels of the building, in an underground section. The intent was to protect the people inside from external threats because the people who use this room are heads of state can meet without fear of attack or outside distractions. The room is set up with a small circular table to allow everyone to look each other in the eye, and also to hide nothing from each other. The only occupants in the room were four men, each a leader of their country, each some of the most powerful men in the world. One could tell which country they represent by the small flags pinned to their suits. One had a cane and sat silently as two of his colleagues argue while another one also sat back and watch the fight unfold.

"If we do not do any military action now, Gallia will fall and the USSR will be next then America, then you two islands will be by yourselves against the Federation and the Empire! Can't you see that you short sighted Prime Minister!" yelled Alexander Sholokhov, the General Secretary of the USSR.

"Yes I do, you Slavic bastard. However we cannot rush into this, they have nukes, we have nukes, and they already used a bloody nuke in Gallia. Plus the Federation threat of Nuclear conflict is still on the table, and they will launch if we are not careful. Do you want to be responsible for the end of the world as we know it!" yelled in response Prime Minister Edward Grey.

As the argument devolves into more name calling and insults before, President Douglas Hyde, leader of Erin, slams his fist into the table.

"Enough of this, what are you all, children? You two have been hounding each other for the past hour. We need to come up with a solution, and quick, or we will have that scenario on our hands of the Empire and the Federation dismantling the Alliance. However we will not reach the solution if we all bicker like children and talk like the leaders we are supposed to be. Dear Merciful God in Heaven, can you two do that without going to each other's throats?"

Before anyone of them could respond, the door slid open and in walk Cordelia being closely watch by Holmes. She was the by far the youngest in the room, the other occupants are turning grey from age and the stress on the job.

"Princess Cordelia, you have arrived, are you alright, and what happen to your hair?" asked the concern Grey.

She glanced down at her dress and see the blood stains on it, her brother's blood.

"This is from my brother, who was defending my country when he was wounded. As for my hair, this the true color, not the grey wig I wear," she responded.

"I see, it might be time to let the Empire know who they are dealing with."

This came from the man sitting down, holding on to a simple cane. He starts to stand up with a struggle, his right leg was fully extended, look almost fake. Pain and discomfort was written all over his face.

"For too long our common enemies, the Empire and the Federation, had the intention to break this alliance down, craved our lands and resources, wanted to destroy everything we worked for. They went as far and attempted to escalated the Cold Years to force us to destroy each other. Now as our enemies stand to cause a nuclear conflict, to stop us from helping our trusted friend and ally, all for Ragnite. It is almost like they would not give up even thirty pieces of silver," he said fully standing. "It is time to end this conflict. We must secure peace for future generations. We must remove the enemy's' ability to cause further bloodshed. We must come together and proclaim in one voice and say enough is enough. We must take up the banner which our predecessors failed, effectively end this type of global conflict, we should settle with nothing short of total victory, no more ceasefires treaties to allow the wounds to fester and result in another World War. We must draw the line in the sand and say you will not cross this line."

"But how? Gallia is having a full scale evacuation? Soon it will be no military units in country," said Grey.

"My country motto is Freedom no matter the cost, and even though we are force from our country, there is loyal sons and daughters willing to stay behind to fight back any way they can in hope that one day, Gallia will return to its great state, in hope that her military will come back and drive the Empire from its borders. I hope that Gallia will be let back into the Alliance, because we will need help from our most trusted allies to drive them from our country. My country will fall, I understand that, but it is not the end of Gallia," said Cordelia, her voice was not trembling, but strong with confidence.

"You never left dear. To organized an effective counter attack which not only push the Empire out, but also the Federation hostile intention, will no doubt take months. But the price of freedom is not paid for by words, but with the blood and sweat of those willing to lay down one's life for others."

"Some big words from you, Theodore. You are like your ancestors, you have the words and the proof to back it up," replied Sholokhov.

"I may have lost fully ability to use my right leg from a stray bullet of war. But like those who came before me, I know the cost of war. It is always high, and now doubt we ask a lot from our young soldiers who march off to war. Put when I took office, I swore an oath that, I, Theodore Delano Roosevelt, would bring peace, no matter the cost. Like those before me, I will strive to accomplish that goal," Roosevelt responded.

As they leaders discussed the hopes and plans for the future, most can't help but think of the months and even years that loom before them, the dark years of war, of proud patriots laying down their lives for the common good of all people. Their thoughts and prayers go out to those who died and those who will die before the war comes to an end.

Strelok Airfield, Ten miles west of Belfast, Erin

October 23

22 days since the Invasion

1025

Dave Lehman huddled over a radio, with a map and several photos of troop movements before him. He waits for Mal radio transmission, however with the nuke going off in Trihall, he is skeptical that Mal could find a working radio in a ten mile radius from the explosion. He was confident that Mal met up with the unit he was supposed to meet with. In the meantime, Dave kept a close watch on troop movements. The door to the hut he was sitting in open and in walked two people, each in Gallia military fatigues. Both wore glasses, one had dark hair and tied around his left arm was a Darcsen shawl, something most Darcsens do in combat. The other was a woman, her rank attached to her collar was a colonel.

"What can I do for you folks?" asked Dave without turning around.

"Are you the OSS agent David Lehman?" asked the woman.

"Just Dave, what do you need?" asked Dave again turning his head back slightly.

"I' am Colonel Eleanor Varrot, I am here to deliver your assistant, First Lieutenant Zeri," she said.

"Reporting for duty sir!" shouted Zeri.

"First off cut that sir shit. I was never an officer and I am not retired yet. Call me Dave or

Bossman. Second, how old are you?" asked Dave.

"I am twenty sir, I mean, Dave. I was a second year cadet at Lanseal Royal Military Academy before the invasion," answered Zeri, maintaining a position of attention.

"God, you're not even old enough to buy a beer and you are a First LT, Christ, knock that standing attention shit off. You are work for me, and that mean get used the lay back style of an analyst world," said Dave.

"Are you in charge of the OSS agent attached to Lieutenant Gunther unit?" asked Varrot.

"Yes, I am, still awaiting the radio call from Mal. Kinda hard to receive radio transmission from the area surrounding Trihall, a EMP no doubt knocked out every radio in a ten mile radius, judging on the blast and the fallout. But I have no doubt they have escape not only the blast but also the fallout," answered Dave.

The radio starts to crackle to life with burst of static.

"This Major Tom to Ground Control, come in Ground Control, I' am stepping through the door, over."

"Excuse me, it seems that we have now made contact with the unit," said Dave going to the radio, being closely followed by Zeri, wanting to help.

"This Ground Control to Major Tom, thought your circuits dead, I hope you are floating in the most peculiar way, over," said Dave.

"This Major Tom, ah fuck it, this is getting annoying Ground Control, lets stop this coded

bullshit," said Mal over the radio.

"Agreed, this is bullshit Major Tom, though the enemy might be listening in, best to keep the codenames, still glad to hear from you," said Dave.

"Alright Ground Control, reporting and requesting aid, over."

"Okay, what do you need Major Tom?"

"I need primary Intelligence and weapons, preferable something like The Wild Bill show."

Dave could not help but crack a smile. Wild Bill loved the use of snipers, sponsored a competition with several firearm manufactures to create a perfect sniper system. While most manufactures focused on bolt action platforms, Browning and Barret teamed up and shift its focus semi-automatic firearms. They took the tried and true battle rifle, the M14, and turned it into the M-25 White Feather, making more accurate and slightly lighter weapon. They also created the M107 anti-material rifle as a package deal for the OSS. When the test took place, they found out that not only the M-25 outshot and beat out several other excellent weapons, it was also extremely reliable, rarely jammed, plus paired with the M107, nothing that could stand the user's way. It was adopted and the system was given the codename, Wild Bill's Show, not only to confuse the enemy listening in, but also congressmen who controlled the budget of several government groups.

"You want The Wild Bill Show, this sound like party time."

"Ha, I wish."

"Ground Control to Major Tom, listen closely, splashdown 15 will take place at 2245 tonight, prepare for reentry."

"Roger Ground Control, Major Tom over and out."

With a loud burst of static, the line was cleared. Dave swiveled around in his chair to Zeri.

"Can you read a map at night and from a plane?" Dave asked.

"I think so, I was study military intelligence, we also had to learn to read a map no matter the environment, I think the two might help reading a map at night and from a plane," answered Zeri.

"Good, you're my Co-pilot, get your ass over to the supply hut, one marked with NV, and hand the desk jockey this. He should give you two pairs of Night vision devices and a duffel bag filled with two rifles, M-25 and M107 with a lot of ammo for the two. He then should give you keys to a small ATV, drive the ATV and bring them all back here, got that kid?" ordered Dave.

"Got it," answered Zeri. He took the paper and ran out of the hut.

"You are flying in tonight? If so I am coming with you," said Varrot.

"What, you want to come on this flight, into occupied territory, with a high chance of being shot down by enemy forces patrolling the air? It is hard enough to evacuate the civilian and military personnel without the aircraft being shot down leaving Gallia airspace," stated Dave.

"Then why are you flying in with Zeri?" asked Varrot.

"I can fly a small light aircraft into places that no one expects it to go. It also has a small radar cross section due to the size, however you should still stay here," answered Dave.

"I have something important to do in country still, and this it," said Varrot. She shows him something from her breast pocket. Dave glanced at it and shook his head.

"Fine, I still don't want to bring you, but if that is what I think it is, it might bring some good news these people need."

Gallia

October 23,

2240

Welkin and Mal stood on the edge of the forest clearing watching the skies. Both occasionally glance at their watches. The Edelweiss sat silent, next to it the Land Rover was likewise silent. Everyone huddled around a flameless cooker, trying to stay warm in the ever colder nights. Winter was coming, and with it the long freezing nights.

"Are you sure this is splashdown 15?" asked Welkin.

"Yeah this is the location, the plane should be arriving any minute now, hopefully it was not shot down," replied Mal.

Welkin nodded his head and goes back to scanning the sky. A small, dull colored plane began to descend from the sky. Bring his binoculars up, Welkin tapped Mal on the shoulder.

"I think this is the plane, you ready to contact them?" asked Welkin.

"Yeah, getting the spotlight ready," Mal said, lifting a hand held spotlight from the tank. He pulls the trigger several times, flashing the light beam at the plane.

The plane shook its wings and continued to climb down in altitude and flew directly over the top of the trees before turning around and landing in the clearing. The engine still ran, rotating the prop and a hand was stuck out the window and threw out the middle finger.

"That's Dave alright, it's them," said Mal.

"Lets go guys, but be careful, the enemy might be hiding in the woods," ordered Welkin.

They approached the aircraft, wary of snipers or other units. Three people began to climb out of the aircraft, one holding a massive duffel bag and another a file in his hands. Mal and Welkins approached the figures as the other start to take up defensive positions.

"Well Dave, how's life away from the Meade?" asked Mal.

"Perfected, like a fucking vacation. You alright brother?" asked Dave

Mal rotated his palm, while nodding his head in a so-so fashion.

"Before we continue, lets get a pressing matter out of the way first," said Varrot, stepping into clearer view.

"Colonel Varrot! What are you doing here?" asked the shocked Welkin.

"Lieutenant, call in your people, this is important," she said.

Welkin gave a quick order and the unit began to fall in, wondering why the order was given. Varrot removed something from her pocket.

"Lieutenant Welkin Gunther, I requested this from high command a while back and it finally came through. You are now promoted to Major, I know you are skipping Captain, but since you will be operating behind enemy lines from now on, you should be at least the same rank as Major Malcolm here," she said ripping off the Velcro rank in front of uniform. She then replaced it with one with four spear points surrounded by a simple shield shaped border. Everyone started to congratulate Welkins, who begins to beam a little with pride.

"Congratulations Major Gunther, I hope that all of you do make it through this occupation alive," continued Varrot.

"Thank you Ma'am, may I asked the shape of Squad Seven? As you can see over here Lynn stayed behind, but we lost Jerome," said Welkin.

"During the evacuation, a fighter-bombers strafed the field, Largo ran out with just his Anti-Tank weapon and managed to shoot down one the plane, however at the expense of receiving several shrapnel wounds. He is going to be remove from Squad Seven for the time being and place as my bodyguard when he recovers, however this mean his days as a frontline soldier is over," answered Varrot.

"Knowing Largo, he would be chomping at the bit to get back in the fray, he would do everything in his power to get out and fight," said Welkins.

"I have to say that Gallia will be completely under Empire control for a while. Gallia does not have the strength to turn back the tide of the Invasion by ourselves. The Alliance is secretly mobilizing their militaries and beginning to train for war, however this will take time. It is imperative that your unit fight back, weaken the enemy at every turn. The counter invasion might be next month or next year, but it will come, so be prepared Major," said Varrot.

Dave glanced at his pocket watch and sticks back into his jacket pocket.

"We need to speed this up, according to intel, there will be a flight of fighters flying over within the next forty minutes, I do not want be here when they do a fly by," said Dave. He turns his head to Zeri. "Alright Kid, give them the duffle bag." Zeri stepped forward, carrying with some difficulty, the duffle bag.

"Folks who do not know, this is the famous Wild Bill's Show," announced Dave, unzipped the duffle bag.

Mal kneels down starts to remove the rifles and the bandoleers of ammo. Marina steps up and takes the M25, and studies and fiddles with the rifle, inspecting everything from the flash suppressor to the compartment in the stock, from the action to the trigger guard and trigger. Satisfied, she fishes a magazine from one of the bandoleers and rocks it into the magazine well and charged the weapon.

"This is an expertly made rifle, kinda reminds me of my father's rifle," Marina whispered to herself.

"Also for all of you, intel you might use. There is a lot of train activity near the port city of Higgins. The Imperials are doing something up there and I do not know what," Dave said.

"We will check it out, might be the first place we strike back," said Welkins.

"Very well, I do have to add that a MI-6 agent is in the city, I put the name and the codename he has in the file, if that is okay Dave," said Zeri. Dave gave a big grin and slap on the back to Zeri.

"Great initiative, kid. I forgot about that agent," praised Dave.

"We better get going, it might be easier to move at night with the tank then the day time," said Welkin.

"Very well Major, I wish you the best of luck and hope that we will met again when Gallia's military returns," Said Varrot. With a brief exchange of salutes, Welkins had his unit retreat back to the woods, Mal flung a two finger salute to Dave before following the unit back to the woods.

As they disappeared, Varrot turned to Dave.

"Do you think we can possibly win this war?"

"Of course, but we all have a long struggle ahead of us. Come on, get in the damn plane, those fighter aircraft is coming soon and the sooner we are over neutral airspace, the better," said Dave climbing back into the plane.

As the plane took off and flew away, it waggled its wings in form of a salute to Welkins's unit. Wishing them luck in the occupation that has arrived.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter V: The Blue Cobalt Rose

Citadel Ghirlandaio, Gallia

October 24

23 days since the Invasion

1430

The Citadel at Ghirlandaio was once considered impregnable, the first line of defense against any invasion from the east. Designed and built forty years ago, the Citadel was constantly upgraded to the changing times, first built for the Soviets in the Cold Years to the Empire in more recent years. It was not the case however, with General Damon poor leadership skills lead to the capture of the Citadel in just two days. The Citadel now serves the headquarters of the Imperial Forces in Gallia. The two characteristic high artillery spotting towers are now abandon and set for demolition in the following days. Imperial soldiers patrol the walls in full combat gear despite being so far away from the frontlines. In a massive underground complex, a war room was converted from General Damon's large and lavishly decorated quarters. Where flowery wallpaper once covered the walls, was stripped and replace with maps or a large Imperial flag. The flag's two head eagle of the Imperial court stood proudly holding a broadsword and ceremonial orb in its talons with the crest of the royal family adorns it's chest. The large mahogany table that once had rich and large portions food for the general was now stripped of the table cloth and the golden candlesticks and in it's place is papers, reports, and ash trays with smoked cigars and mounds of ashes. Attendants empty the ashtrays and fill up the glasses of fine wine that sat before the table's occupants, trying their best not to disrupt them from the conference. Four people sat around the table, four people pleased with themselves with the invasion. There jet black uniforms are adorned with medals and ribbons won, the person at the head of the table also wore a red flowing cloak. His head is adorned with a golden oak leaf crown, once worn by emperors of the Holy Latin Empire. His blue eyes and pale blond hair might give him the look of an angel, in reality, this man is more demon than angel. The same could be said for two of the high ranking generals in the room. One's uniform had a bull skull over the epaulet, look more like a cowboy than a military officer. Even the hairstyle is more at home on a ranch. The person next to him look more like the part, looks like he came from rich family, the way he held the wineglass and twirling it with the sniff before taking a sip. The final person had long gray hair and red eyes, her uniform was modest, however could not conceal her curvature.

"A toast my friends, we have the Gallia's army retreating, the Alliance powerless, and soon a massive tracts of land rich in resources added to the immortal empire," toasted the blond haired one raising a wine glass.

"And to you Prince Maximilian, for leading us," said the one with the bull skull on his shoulder.

"No it is all of you, General Jager, General Gregor, and especially you, Selvaria. This campaign could never be successful if it was command by people other than us four," said Maximilian.

"Gallia's forces have been pushed to a 25 kilometer zone with only three airfields and two ports to evacuate its forces, it is only matter of time this little patch of land will be ours and all of Gallia will be ours," said Gregor, before twirling the red liquid and sniffing it. "Say what you want about General Damon and his wasteful tactics, but that man knew his fine wines."

"I do have to remind all of you that the Alliance has their aircraft in country," said Selvaria holding up a few papers. With each of them giving her puzzled looks, she continues. "According to the recon flights, all the nations of the Alliance have their transport aircraft in country loading up with Gallian forces and civilians. They even have fighter escorts and issued a warning that if fired upon, it will be consider a declaration of war. We can't destroy all their forces. The ports have military ships belong to the Alliance navies escorting evacuation ships. We can't touch them, aren't you at least concern with an Alliance counter invasion?"

"My, my, my. You are such a worry wart. We have won the war against Gallia. Even if the Alliance declare war, it will take time to mobilize and train their forces against us. By the time they invade, if it comes, they will only penetrate at most three kilometers before turning themselves back or we will sending them back to the sea," laughed Jager, spilling his wine on the floor. Several attendants rushed to clean up the mess and pour a fresh glassful.

"Besides, we do have a brigade of Gallians willing to fight for us. What do we call them again? Ah yes, Gallian Constable Force. They will but down any resistance movements for us. In the mean time we can focus on digging in and preparing for this invasion to take place. We can easily push them back like Jager said," commented Maximilian.

"Still leaves the question, what do we do about the Darcsen population in country? I think we should still continue the round up, but split the population we recover in two groups, one half goes to back to the homeland and the other half stays here a builds up our defenses against this invasion that might not happen. After all the Alliance leaders are more concern of their well being of it's citizens for their votes could be counted for them so they will not invade. Thanks to that threat of nuclear exchange by the Federation," said Gregor with overconfidence.

They continued to plan, leaving Selvaria alone to her thoughts. They never took her seriously when it comes to strategic planning. They only used her gifts of a Valkyria to turn tides of battle. Can't stand being ignored any longer, she stood up.

"With your blessing, you highness, I would like to take my leave," she said. Maximilian nodded and waved his hand. As she left, she was ogled by a slightly buzzed Jager, amazed by her beauty. When Selvaria finally left, Jager collapse in his chair, again spilling his wine and once again attendants come out and clean up the mess and pour yet another glass of wine.

"I can see why you keep her around sire, that ass and tits. Lucky man you are," mumbled Jager in a more and more drunken state.

"Have you no manners Jager?! Prince Maximilian deserves more respect that, you inbred idiot. Look at you, you guzzle that wine like it was some cheap whiskey," angrily remarked Gregor.

"Enough General Gregor. To answer your question, Selvaria is nothing more than a weapon of war, nothing more. I put on the façade of caring about her to keep her trust. The moment she realizes the truth, she will no doubt try to leave the Empire. But that will not happen gentlemen, for I have her wrapped around my finger. She will not know what to do with herself if the war is over and she will not, I repeat, will not see the end of this conflict. I was think as a last hurrah for her is to self-destruct herself in the Federation's capital city, Parias with a nuclear warhead," replied Maximilian.

They all laughed and enjoyed themselves, without a care in the world.

On the western part of the Citadel, Selvaria leaned on the battlements, looking out over the battle scarred land scape. The shell craters still scattered across the land. Scorched marks where tanks and men burn still littered all over the place. The train tracks, until recently was twisted and shattered by intense heat of napalm, was the only thing that seemed not damaged. Selvaria remember the battle that took place twenty one days ago on this same field, the place her enemy, desperate to hold back the invasion, released poison gas to stop her. If it wasn't for a scared but loyal engineer, Johann Esin, she would be among the dead. She hated Jager and Gregor, she consider them cowards, staying back behind the lines, far away from artillery strikes or snipers. Even Maximillian usually stayed behind the lines and when he does come to the front lines, it was in a massive tank. She still owed loyalty to Maximillian however, he did save her from that lab where she lived for most of her life, after the Empire discovered her Valkyria powers. She closes her eyes tight to remember her parents. Her father was secretly a Darcsen, his dark hair and sad eyes always felt shame for being of that ancestry. He was lucky to hide and not spent his whole life in the work camps the Darcsens of the Empire were forced to go. Her mother was the only thing that kept her father happy apart from Selvaria, and could cook the most exotic dishes from all four corners of the world. They were taken away from her when a massive fire broke out, consuming the village she lived in and awakened her powers. The Imperial regiment was nearby came in looking for survivors, but only found a little girl with silver hair and red eyes. They had orders if a Valkyria was found, they are supposed to be handed over to the Academy of Sciences. And that is what they did, not before showing compassion on the orphan little girl. For twenty long and cold years, they experimented on Selvaria, creating a super weapon. She was only saved by Maximilian. Once just a science experiment, now a General for the Empire, she came a long way. A gentle breeze blew across her face, with it smells of a meal being cooked, causing a few teardrops to swell from her eyes. Somewhere, a family sits down a table and act like the war is not happening, trying to live their lives. She hated this conflict, attacking an innocent country like Gallia, forcing Darcsens to the camps. The Empire never knew of her Darcsen ancestry nor do they knew that she did not believe in the Darcsen Calamity. She knew it was her own bloodline that rewrote history, she even read it herself in the old and forgotten inner chambers of Valkyur temples. Footsteps came up behind her followed by clicking of heels.

"General, I told the Brigade's commanders to have their men start boarding the train, b-but may I ask m-ma'am, why are we departing so early," came a scared voice.

Selvaria turns around to face the short trembling camp-de-aide, the same engineer that saved her life, Johann Esin. She made him a camp-de-aide to keep him from the battlefield. He is also the only one she trusts fully.

"You see corporal, I can't stand being in the same room with General Jager and or General Gregor. They both get on my nerves, so the sooner we go to Winterfell, the better I will feel," answered Selvaria. She reached down and clipped her infantry saber that was leaning against the battlements.

"I have pack all your gear and already stowed away, I made sure everything is in its proper place as you like," Johann said following his general, almost like a lost puppy.

"You are very reliable Johann, what would I do without you," she said as they started to climb down the walls to train awaiting in the courtyard of the Citadel.

Passchendaele, Gallia

1650

The small city of Passchendaele is a minor river port and railroad hub in Gallia. It had importance, the Gallia military fought as hard as it could to hold the city, but retreated within three days. The Imperial Army has already claimed the railroad network and forbade any civilian traffic on the rails. The city like many others in Gallia was under martial law, mandated by the Imperial forces. As Selvaria's train slows down in the train yard next to the river port. Selvaria look out the window at the river port and shuddered. The port was turned into a camp with Darcsens crammed into a small fenced off area. Families clinged to the fence as their neighbors tried to throw food and bottles of water over the fence to them. They were chased off and even shot at by members of the Gallian Constable Force. Their crimson uniforms struck fear in their fellow citizens, who also hated the collaborators. A wheel APC sat waiting with its gun turned towards the encampment, but the flag on the radio mast was shield with two wings crossed together.

"Great, the Scouting Legion is here," mumbled Selvaria.

"What does that mean General?" asked Johann.

"It means that Jager might have them come aboard and harass us, that bastard," sighed Selvaria.

As if almost on cue the train comes to the stop and the door to her train car is open. Then the door to her cabin was open up and in walked in three people, their equipment modern and clean. The lead one took off his officer cover and proceed to sit down across from Selvaria, keeping the same face of seriousness as he walk in. The two blocking the door smirked at Johann, on was a male in black hair and the other was a female with the same color hair, chin length. She also had a ragged red scarf wrapped around her neck. The officer continued to stare at Selvaria while taking off his black leather gloves, one finger at the time. Selvaria continued to stare back, holding back her rage and her clenched fist.

"Good Afternoon General Selvaria, what do I have the pleasure meeting with you for?" asked the officer.

"Cut the shit. I know you are on this train with orders from Jager to "inspect" this train. If you must know, I am heading to Winterfell west of here. And before you asked, no we do not have any Darcsen on this train, Lieutenant Colonel Levi," sternly said Selvaria.

"How dare you talk to Commander Levi like that, Witch," snapped the woman.

"And how dare you talk to a General with that mouth, Captain Mikasa. Just for that I could have you court-martialed. Is this how you run your Legion?" snapped back Selvaria.

"Does it matter? Now if you pardon me, I have a train to inspect," answered Levi standing up.

"I don't think so," came Selvaria also standing up, a aura of blue flames slowly appeared around her and her hair starts to move like she was standing over a fan.

"You Witch!" shouted the other man, pointing his carbine at Selvaria.

"It appears that we must follow General Bles orders this time Captain Yeager. Just this once, besides, our orders were to harassed the General here, and we have completed them to a the T. Have a safe travel," said Levi, without much emotion. The other two grumbled as the walked out, as Levi pulled back on his gloves and put his officer cover back on.

Selvaria returned to normal and sat back down. She was still visibly angry at the rudeness of the Scouting Legion. She punched the wall as the train started to move once again.

"Assholes!"

"Why did you let her boss you around like that?" asked Yeager.

"Because for one she is a general and two General Jager's orders were to harassed her and make her uncomfortably. I say mission accomplished," answered Levi, pulling out a lavishly carved pipe.

"We should still have shot her errand boy back there," whined Mikasa.

"Nonsense, it would lead too much paperwork and I hate paperwork. Now you two bring that Darcsen girl that is staring at me. I'll will be in our tent," ordered Levi.

He walks off to a huge canvas tent. Yeager and Mikasa shared a wicked grin and walked towards the enclosure. A quick snap order, the young teenage girl that Levi wanted was pulled from the arms of her family and crying, kicking, and screaming, she was grasped tightly by the two immoral officers, hauled her away to the tent. Her family kept screaming and begging the guards for her life, but it fell on deaf ears.

The tent was well lite and thin canvas wall separated the compartments. Levi was standing there waiting, smoking his pipe. The girl was forced to stand with Yeager and Mikasa pointing their guns at her. She shook with fright staring at Levi. He stands there for a moment before stepping forward and inspected her, opening her lips and murmuring to himself, took her chin and lift it looking at the throat and neck. With a nod, he grabbed the front of her blouse and ripped it off. With a shriek, she quickly covered her exposed breasts with her arms. Levi swatted them away and grabbed each breast and gave a hard squeeze. The girl yelped in pain. Levi stepped back and removed his pipe from his lips for a moment to give a command.

"On your knees whore."

She began to shake her head and back away, knowing what was coming next. Yeager stepped up and forced her to her knees. Crying, the girl look around and started to plead for her life. Levi drew his pistol and held it up so she could see it clearly.

"I am going to make you a deal. If you can give me good head, I will let you go, to start a new life," Levi said.

Scarred, the girl was petrified, tears continued to streak down her face. Levi took it as a yes and began to undo his belt and unzipped the pants. He got closer, pulled out his member and thrusted into her face. Still seeing that she was petrified, he smacked her in the head with his pistol.

"Come on, you know you want your freedom, do it," Levi calmly said.

Scared, she reached out and grimaced as the dick was shoved down her throat. She continued to cry and gagged, closed her eyes to think of a happier place. Levi stood there and shook his head in a dissatisfied look, put the barrel to the girls head and pulled the trigger. The pistol went off, killing the poor girl instantly. She slumped back and her brains and blood pooled out on the concrete floor.

"Shame, she would have gone free. Oh well, maybe the next one. Get the family to get in here to clean up the mess before they leave for Higgins later tonight, if not, then you come up with some punishment," said Levi redoing his pants and smirking at the other two who return it with a wicked and evil grin.

"At once Commander! Glory to the Emperor!"


End file.
